


Fireflies

by Moontyger



Series: Somebody Else's Story [2]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Jossed, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-17
Updated: 2006-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>L was only mildly surprised by the knock on his door.  While some of the residents of Wammy House were shy and avoided him, others tended to seek him out, desperate for his approval or just his attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireflies

L was only mildly surprised by the knock on his door. While some of the residents of Wammy House were shy and avoided him, others tended to seek him out, desperate for his approval or just his attention. He knew it wasn't Mello, because he never knocked anymore (unless someone were with him) and L had never felt the need to remind him to do so. He was unlikely to be doing anything so private that he needed advance warning here. It could be any number of others and he was mildly curious as to the identity of the one who disturbed him this evening.

He was surprised, however, to find it was Near who had knocked. Near was not one of those who tended to visit him. He watched him; L was often conscious of his eyes on him, coolly assessing, measuring. But he rarely did more than watch and usually only spoke to L if he initiated it. In fact, from what he had heard and noticed himself, it was rare for Near to take the initiative in anything at all.

“Come in.” He let Near in and shut the door behind him before going to perch on the couch. Near sat at the other end, one knee drawn up to his chest in what might be an unconscious imitation, and watched him in silence. L waited. It was Near who had come here tonight, so surely he had something he wanted to say. He suspected he at least knew the topic, but he wanted to let Near be the one to say it.

Near fidgeted with his hands, fingers lacing and unlacing rapidly, and he looked away before he spoke. “I wanted to talk to you about Mello.” His voice was grave and gave no hint of what else he was thinking.

“I see,” L replied just as seriously. “As I recall, Mello is your only rival for top student here. He resents you and makes no secret of his dislike.”

“Yes.” Near looked down at the small pale hands now folded in his lap and L thought he was forcing himself to hold them still. He was almost never seen without something in his hands; perhaps he had no idea what to do with them when they were empty. “But that wasn't what I came here to speak with you about. You shouldn't have to concern yourself with that.”

“Hmm.” L watched him, observing all the telltale signs of nervousness. Near hid them more than most, but they were still there if one knew what to look for: there in his breathing, in the tension in his body.

“I... do you love Mello?” Near burst out in a rush that seemed to surprise him almost as much as it did L.

L cocked his head at him curiously. “I see. I hadn't been aware you knew about that.”

“Everyone knows who wants to know. It's not hard to see if you are looking and plenty of us watch you, notice who visits you. And more importantly, when they leave.”

It was true and he hadn't made a real effort to keep it secret. L wondered who else knew and why no one had said anything about it before this. He might have expected some of the caretakers, at least, to have said something, expressed concern about what L was doing with a boy so much younger than he. Then again, L was practically a law unto himself here and few seemed willing to criticize him. Perhaps they assumed he knew what he was doing. Or perhaps they simply didn't want to know.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked. It wasn't the question he would have expected and he was certain Mello would never send Near to ask if it were he who sought the answer. He also wasn't entirely sure it was a question he should answer, at least not from Near. What good would it do him to know? How would Mello feel if he knew Near were here, asking such a thing? Would it hurt him if L answered? He suspected it might.

“I... just do.” He looked down and one hand plucked at the folds of his pajama pants while he twisted a lock of hair around a finger of the other. L watched him intently, trying to read the emotions and thoughts this boy hid so well.

“Are you jealous?” he asked gently. It was a personal question, but it was in response to one just as personal, as private, so he felt entitled to ask.

Near met his eyes for a moment, then looked away again. “Maybe,” he said in a voice so soft L could scarcely hear him.

And perhaps he really didn't know. Near wasn't one to be in touch with his feelings. L knew his reputation for complete emotionlessness, for cold, bloodless logic. Whether he merely suppressed his emotions or rarely had them, it seemed clear that he found them confusing and didn't know how to deal with them.

L reached out a hand, turned his face up towards him, and kissed him. Near went still and seemed to have no idea what to do before he began timidly kissing back. Satisfied, L broke the kiss and met his confused eyes, a whirlpool of emotions visible in them that would probably startle those who knew him. “Is this what you want?” he asked.

Near looked at him in confusion, then looked away again. “I don't know.”

L smiled to himself, his theory confirmed. “I see. Then it must be Mello you want.”

“I – yes. I think... maybe... I do.”

“Hmm.” That promised to be difficult and L felt momentary sympathy for Near. He understood how such an attraction could have come to be; other than L, Near was practically the focus of Mello's world; they were the twin poles against which he defined himself. That kind of attention could easily inspire strong feelings in the object of it. “He doesn't really hate you, you know,” he offered.

“Doesn't he?” Bitterness and expectation of pain in his tone. He had not wanted to know this (which was probably why he hadn't realized it on his own) and it was not the answer he had thought he came here seeking tonight, even if it was the one he needed to know.

“He resents you, yes. But I think he admires you, too, even finds you fascinating.” Not that it would necessarily be easy to make Mello aware of this, nor did it mean he would return Near's feelings.

“You still haven't answered my question,” Near said.

Perhaps his interest did give him a right to know. L considered. He had not thought about it much because he had not thought it mattered. Their relationship was for Mello and of his making, not L's, so he had not concerned himself with his own feelings about it. When Mello was older, when it might matter, had seemed time enough to think about it. Now... well, what _did_ he feel? Certainly he was fond of the boy or he wouldn't have bothered. He cared about him and didn't want to hurt him. Love, however, was perhaps another matter.

“I do, but perhaps not in the way you mean. I shall have to think on it. Now that I consider, it seems I haven't really examined my feelings about him.”

Near met his eyes squarely. “Don't you think you should?” He looked away again, twisted another lock of hair, perhaps feeling he had said too much, that criticism of L was not permitted. “I mean, he loves you,” he finished in an almost whisper.

“I know.” He knew, although he thought his feelings might change. Much of it was hero worship, after all, and at some point Mello would have to learn that L wasn't perfect, wasn't a hero, but merely a man. When he did, it might be the end of it, and L knew it was foolish to get attached when that was such a likely outcome. But it wasn't certain; and if his feelings survived his disillusionment, if he still loved and accepted L for the fallible being he was, what then? The age difference was awkward now, but it wouldn't always be. Perhaps it was good that Near had come to him tonight and made L start thinking about these questions.

“What is it that you want me to do?” he asked Near. If he had come here to ask, he must have had some intention in mind; he wasn't the type to bother L on impulse.

“I suppose... you should decide what you feel, first.” Near's voice was soft and uncertain and he stared intently at the floor. “But, if you don't really want him, maybe you could... end it?” He ended the sentence on a pleading note, looking up and directly into L's eyes.

“You know that doesn't mean he would necessarily choose to be with you, Near.” L didn't want to be cruel, but he also didn't want him to entertain false hopes. He knew that Near knew this, but he also knew how easy it would be to pretend he didn't, to fool himself. L could try to influence Mello, try to help him get past the antagonism he felt towards Near (had, in fact, been meaning to do so for some time now, although for different reasons), but that was the most he could do and there was no guarantee of success. He didn't want Near to expect something and then be hurt when it didn't materialize.

“I know. But it would at least give me a chance.”

L nodded gravely at him. “It would. Very well, I will think on it and let you know what I conclude.” On impulse, he reached over and pulled Near into a hug. He tensed, but L didn't let go. This boy needed more affection. He seemed so cold, such a loner, that everyone assumed he had no emotional needs, but it wasn't true. “Don't give up yet, Near,” he whispered into his hair.

When he released him, Near looked uneasy, standing there awkwardly, constantly twisting his hair into tight curls. “Thank you, L,” he said, without looking directly at him. “Thank you for being so honest with me.”

Near left without looking back, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving L alone to think. What did he feel? Who or what did he want?

L remembered Mello as he had first seen him, a tiny blond boy who rapidly became one of the best students at Wammy House. Even then, he was desperate for attention; he always had to be louder, tougher, _better_ than any of the others, and he was known for getting into trouble as much as for his brilliance. After Near came, he became known for his temper as well, prone to getting into fights not only with Near but with almost anyone around them. He hated being outdone, hated the way others noticed and reacted to him when he was always second instead of first, and he responded with unfocused rage towards everyone and everything.

His reaction to L was different though, almost from the start. When he understood who and what L was, he began to go out of his way to get L's attention and his approval, seeking it at nearly any cost and valuing it above that of any other. Everyone noticed; it would have been difficult not to. It made L a bit uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to turn him away or to be harsh to him in response. He wasn't the only child there to respond like that, only the most determined one, the one who hardly ever took no for an answer.

And then, one night, the night before L was to leave for his first case, Mello had come to his room. He had known L was leaving, of course, they all did, although not all of them knew why. Mello and Near, however, as the most likely successors even then, knew the most of any and they knew why he was leaving, what he was going to do, even if not where or the specific details. So he hadn't been surprised to see the boy at his door, opening it without knocking and tiptoeing in, even though it was late, far past the time he should have been asleep.

Something in his worried expression had touched L's heart; after all, Mello was worried for _him_. Perhaps his fear was more than was reasonable, but it was real and L had a soft heart, especially where these kids were concerned. So he let didn't tell him to go back to bed but let him stay.

When he made his request, however, L had been shocked. He had never thought of Mello in that way, had never expected to hear the words “Please make love to me” come from those lips. Had he been more experienced with people, perhaps he would have expected it, realized his behavior indicated that such a question was inevitable, but he was younger then, too. Even now, he wasn't sure he would have expected it, not yet. Not until Mello was a few years older, closer to the age he was now.

Mello had denied all his protests, met his eyes with ones so determined and yet so fragile that he couldn't say no. It was wrong and he knew it and it wasn't something he would have sought from him on his own. But he knew this boy and he saw in him that night that he would take refusal here as absolute rejection and abandonment, would be hurt far more than it warranted. And the truth was, L understood how he felt. He had also felt alone and abandoned, uncared for by the adults around him, desperate for some proof that someone cared about him. He couldn't do it, even though he should.

So instead, he made the decision he probably never should have made: he agreed, let Mello into his bed. There were lines he made sure not to cross, but he still felt uncomfortable about it. Even worse that his body responded to Mello's touching with desire, even though he hadn't expected it, had never felt it for a child before or since. Now, he thought it was only natural, stimulus and response, the giver of the stimulus not nearly as important as the fact of it. Bodies could be remarkably practical about such things, even if minds were not. Eventually he became used to it, accepted it, although he always knew that others would disapprove if they knew.

Yet somehow, Mello didn't seem injured; he even seemed calmer, happier, less bitter. He was starved for affection, needed it desperately, and L gave it willingly. He wouldn't have chosen this form for it, had the choice been his, but it hadn't (and there was no easy way of going back to their previous relationship, no way to pretend it had never happened) and he hadn't really regretted it. He treated Mello respectfully, like a real lover, and maybe it was a mistake, but it was what he needed. Maybe even what they both needed; L could not deny that he was also isolated and lonely, yet with no one he could trust, no way to stay anywhere for long, unable to reveal anything about himself, he could hardly find a real lover. Perhaps, he reflected now, somewhat bitterly, Watari had always intended him to do something like this and that was why no one said anything. He had to know that L would be lonely and most of these children weren't so much younger than he as to make it completely untenable, especially in a few years. And certainly the age difference was small enough that calling them his potential successors seemed almost cruel in its expectation of a very early death for L. Maybe what they really were was his potential _partners_ rather than successors, partners in investigation as well as other things. It wouldn't surprise him; it seemed entirely possible that it was something Watari would do. Without telling him, of course, because he wouldn't want to influence his choice, even whether he made one or not. Odd that it hadn't occurred to him before, but then he had never had occasion to ponder the issue. There had always been things on his mind that had seemed more important, more urgent, than his own loneliness.

He remembered the first time he had bought a gift for Mello, chocolate he had picked up on a whim, just happening to see it and think of him. And who among them didn't associate chocolate with Mello? He was almost always eating it; hardly ate anything else unless forced. L smiled to himself at the thought; he was very similar to himself in that way. It was only later that it had occurred to him that it might not be the best idea and must look rather odd to only bring a gift for one of many children, all of whom awaited his return with anticipation. But then he didn't have to give it to him in front of everyone else; he could (and did) wait for Mello to come to him, gave it to him in private. And the look on his face when he'd realized what L had done, what it meant, was ecstatic. His gratitude seemed astonishing for such a small thing, a mere token that L had thought about him while he was gone. But it should have occurred to him that there was no one else to bring these children gifts and that such a thing, unlooked-for, would be momentous. It might have had he not had such an unusual childhood himself. It must have meant even more when Mello was the only one to receive such a gift, an indication that he was special when he very much feared that he was not. It had meant so much to him that he told no one of it, as he told no one of his relationship with L, kept it a secret just between them. A secret, L knew, that meant more to him than any other.

But what, L asked himself, did it mean to him? That he cared for Mello was obvious, had been from the beginning, but then he cared for many of those here. Certainly his passion, his determination, that inner fire that never let him give up, was attractive, drew admirers like a campfire on a cold night. Perhaps, he thought, he could only truly determine how he felt in the presence of the actual person: the living, breathing, feeling boy rather than merely his memory of him. Well, if that were the case, he had but to wait.

  
When Mello opened the door and slipped inside, it was late enough that L had concluded he had decided to sleep in his own room tonight. Which was fine, as he didn't have plans to leave immediately and wasn't in any hurry to see him necessarily. L could always wait; he was good at waiting. It was a primary skill of an investigator. He never knew when Mello would choose to come to his room and when he wouldn't and he left it entirely up to him, as he left everything about this relationship up to him. But it was unusual for it to be so late.

He looked tired, L noted, and his hair was disheveled, as though he had been running his fingers through it repeatedly in frustration. He must have been working on something that he didn't think was going well, or at least not well enough. Mello looked uneasy, too; another sign that things had not been going well for him.

“It's ok that I came here, isn't it?” he asked softly. “I know it's late, but I thought you would still be awake.”

L smiled at him. This aspect of Mello, the uncertain, almost shy boy, was one he suspected no one else ever saw. He was too afraid of being hurt to let anyone else know how vulnerable he really was. It was a sign of trust that he didn't try to hide it and L acknowledged that trust as the gift it was. “You were right. I was. I didn't expect you, but you should know you are always welcome here.” Mello moved closer and he stood up and opened his arms, held him when he he moved inside them. “You seem frustrated,” he commented, then kissed him before he could answer, the kiss of the lovers they were rather than the kiss of a friend or a concerned older brother. He could feel the tension going out of Mello's body as he returned the kiss, leaning against him in sudden exhaustion.

It took almost no effort after that to lead him to the bed and tuck him in, L climbing in beside him. Mello clung to him and he allowed it, stroking his hair gently, encouraging him to relax. He knew he was tired and he needed his rest. Just because L hardly slept didn't mean he expected it of the others here! And if Mello just wanted to sleep in here, that was okay. It was really rather pleasing to think that he might find L's presence so comforting that it would help him sleep.

No one else had ever felt that way; there was always too much distance; an unease in his presence that he noticed in everyone around him. It had started when he was young enough that he had given up trying to change it long ago. But it was really quite nice to have someone feel they could rely on him for their emotional needs. Maybe, L thought, the truth was that Mello needed him and L wanted someone to need him for himself, the person, and not just the detective that was all the few people who usually interacted with him saw. Even Watari, despite having raised him, had never really been close to L and he certainly didn't _need_ him, as his raising of successors clearly demonstrated.

“I'm just never good enough! I try and I try and it is never quite as good, never!” Mello blurted suddenly, as though he couldn't hold it in anymore, and then flushed as he realized what he had said and to whom.

L's expression didn't change, though he felt worried about him. Mello hardly ever said anything about his frustrations to L and that he had done so now, like this, meant he must be really upset, far more so than usual. “I have never thought you weren't good enough, Mello,” he said, his tone calm and certain. “No one has gone and declared you the loser. There are different ways to be the best, after all.”

“Everyone knows I've already lost; it's just not official yet. I'm not as good as he is. Sometimes I beat him, but not often enough!”

“Mello.” L's voice was serious now, almost with an edge to it. “I told you that you haven't lost. Who should know better than I? There is more to this choice than you think, I promise you.”

Mello froze, his eyes opening wide like something trapped, then relaxed against him, the tension that had come upon him so unexpectedly leaving as quickly as it had appeared. “You're right; I'm sorry. I'm just so...” his voice trailed off, but L mentally supplied the word he left unspoken: _scared_. Mello was terrified of being left behind, denied affection, of losing the little he had. “Do you... really think I'm good enough?” he asked timidly, looking away as though afraid to see what was in L's expression.

“I wouldn't lie to you about that.”

He might, actually, if he thought it would change things for the better, and it was perhaps unfairly exploiting Mello's trust in him to say such a thing when it wasn't strictly true, but he wasn't lying about it now. Mello didn't often outperform Near, but he did sometimes, and their scores were close enough that the difference was insignificant, statistically speaking. Both of them had personality traits that would be useful for a detective: Mello had an astute intuition and the will to act on it as well as sheer determination that would get him through most difficulties, while Near had cold logic and all the patience he would ever need.

“Then you're the only one,” Mello muttered, but he seemed to have calmed, the storm over nearly as suddenly as it had begun.

L cuddled him and kissed his forehead. “Isn't that enough?”

Mello sighed and still seemed unhappy, but he closed his eyes and relaxed against him, his exhaustion getting the better of him. “I guess so. At least, it helps.”

L watched him as he fell asleep and wished he could do more for him, but the way Wammy House was run hadn't been his idea nor was he in charge of it. He was merely a product of it just like all the rest, albeit the initial one and the model for the others. Sometimes this system seemed unnecessarily cruel to him. Was it really so important to find the best successor possible that children had to be put through this kind of stress? Mello took it harder than most, perhaps because he was so very close to being the best that the goal seemed possible for him whereas others had no doubt given up long ago, but L wasn't oblivious to the signs in the rest. Even Near had some of that sense of quiet buried desperation about him, though he hid it better than most. L didn't really know what a normal childhood was like (or, for that matter, what normal children were like), but he suspected at least some of the residents of Wammy House were damaged by the way they were encouraged to compete with each other in everything, at all costs.

On the other hand, choosing a successor based on mere liking would be foolish and he was well aware of that. Nor did he know anything about raising children in order to make useful suggestions. Most of the time, it wasn't a subject that interested him particularly; after all, it seemed highly unlikely that he would ever have children of his own and it was even less likely that he would ever be running the orphanage, even if he retired as L. He had left the task up to others who seemed better suited for it, but he did sometimes have doubts. But he hardly had time to involve himself more directly in the matter. It was enough that he sometimes identified suitable candidates and spent time here with those who might take his place, even if it wasn't really sufficient for him to knew all of them well. Still, he might think about it some more and possibly discuss the matter with Watari and Roger, see if there weren't some way to avoid some of the ill effects. Adolescents tended to be insecure enough on their own; it seemed unwise to add to that more than necessary. It was perhaps merely luck that they hadn't had any attempted suicides yet. L looked at Mello with sudden concern; if he really did lose at last, what would he do? The residents here were given a fair amount of autonomy; it was highly likely that no one would notice if he tried something drastic until it was far too late. And Mello was already well-known for being unpredictable. Clearly it was far past time for him to have a talk about the situation with those in charge and to perhaps do what he could to fix it himself.

If nothing else, it might be necessary for some of those here to work together at some point and this level of competition might well make it impossible. L wondered if they were ever encouraged to cooperate; he certainly hadn't been, but then he had been raised alone, at least initially. And when Watari began collecting others, he was already sufficiently older than they to be set apart. Maybe he would have done better had he been encouraged to be more social; his understanding of people was certainly limited by his lack of practical experience.

Mello sighed in his sleep and turned over onto his side, curling into a ball next to him. L watched over his uneasy sleep, and tried to make his mind focus on the more immediate issue of how he felt about this boy who loved him so desperately. He had promised Near he would find an answer, after all, and this was the perfect opportunity, while Mello was here but asleep, so L could simply watch and think about him without other distractions.

Physically, Mello was very attractive, far more so than L himself was. He had no illusions; he was perfectly aware that “unusual” was probably the nicest thing that could be said about his looks, and his eccentric habits merely made the problem worse. Mello, on the other had, had the kind of delicate, almost feminine good looks that made a boy feel he had to act tougher and more violent than he really was. Not that he didn't genuinely have a rather nasty temper, but some of it was an act to try to offset his girlish appearance. And certainly no one was ever fool enough to taunt Mello or call him a sissy twice!

Now that Mello no longer looked quite like a child, although not yet an adult, L had to admit that he was attracted to him. He looked at him more closely, tried to imagine him as he would be in a few more years, sleeping just like this perhaps, and felt his body respond to the mental image. Yes, physical attraction was definitely present and it wasn't merely a learned response to his presence, his body's knowledge that this person was a source of pleasure. A small part of him wondered if Mello would really still want _him_ in a few years. But he shoved that question away for later. Right now he was thinking about _his_ feelings, not Mello's, for probably the first time since this began.

L was also beginning to suspect that he hadn't thought about this before not only because he never wanted to be guilty of taking anything Mello didn't want to give but also because it made him uncomfortable for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost, of course, was the age difference: until Mello was older, L would always feel slightly disturbed by seriously considering him as his lover, even if that was what he really was to him in almost all other ways. Nearly as prominent amongst his concerns, however, was the suspicion that he really could love him, if he let himself. He thought of all the times he had seen him: watching him play football from a window, laughing, his face flushed from the exercise; his radiant, unguarded smile when they were alone; his tears of frustration and loneliness; his face twisted in anger as he fought another boy: all the moods and images that made up his mental concept of Mello. Yes, he could love him. He was so very _different_ from L and even more so from Near, but it was in that difference that the attraction lay. His energy, his recklessness, his chimerical emotions, all shone like a bright light in a sea of dark. He didn't have to worry about Mello not understanding his reasoning the way he did with most others; he and Near were the only two here who could probably come close to keeping up with L. Yet he expressed his brilliance differently, his thought patterns recognizable yet not the same. It was fascinating, like watching something familiar become suddenly strange, one's own face through a kaleidoscope. How could L help but want that?

But if he did, what then? He couldn't take him with him; no matter how often Mello asked and despite the fact that he really could be useful; it was too dangerous and he wasn't ready, not yet. L thought of the way he looked at him, the expression in those dark eyes tonight when he was tired and hurting, and knew that if he were in danger, Mello would sacrifice himself to save L without question and that he _could not_ allow, not now. No, he had to stay here until he was old enough to be out on his own, old enough to be trusted to make those decisions and risk himself.

But if L let himself love him, if he went ahead and jumped from the precipice at whose edge he was already standing, and yet he still had to be away from him for months at a time, he would be even lonelier than he already was. Even worse, he didn't particularly want to share him, but he knew he couldn't tie Mello to him. If he were going to leave him behind, he couldn't ask that he be faithful and he had to leave him free to find someone else, someone closer to his age, who could stay with him and give him the things L couldn't. Someone like Near.

The responsible thing to do, of course, would be to do as Near had asked. Lie about his feelings, send Mello away, tell him it was time he found someone his own age. Try to direct him towards Near. L could not deny that Near would probably be much better for him if Mello could get past his resentment and wounded pride. But he looked at Mello again, relaxed in sleep, and thought of the way he would look when L told him he didn't want him anymore, the utter abandonment in his eyes and the terrible, naked hurt in his expression, and his stomach cramped with tension. He wasn't sure he could bear to see it. That was how he had gotten into this mess in the first place, after all.

And then there was the question of how _he_ would feel. He would be terribly lonely; there was no one else he was even slightly interested in nor had there been. Not that he tended to meet many people, of course, which surely had something to do with it. Mello really had been his only lover for years now, though L wasn't sure if he knew it. Even L himself had not given any thought to the possible significance of that or considered what he would do if Mello tired of him. He thought of watching Mello with Near while he remained alone, seeing the blond head close to the white as they whispered to each other, watching them kiss, seeing Mello smile at Near the way he only smiled at L now, and the idea hurt. It was selfish and he knew it, but he didn't want to give him up. He hadn't asked for this, would never have asked for it, but now that he had it and had gotten used to having it, giving it up would be like suddenly going blind or deaf, losing something that had become a part of him without him noticing, not truly valued until it was gone. Maybe if Near had asked earlier, he could have done it... but that was unfair and he knew it.

So much doubt! It was rare for L to feel so uncertain. Yes, clearly he needed more experience with emotions and other people. He knew how to deal with almost anything, understood things without being told, but he was lost in this sea of love, desire, and guilt without the slightest idea where to turn and no stars to show him the way, no moon to light his path. So in the end, he remembered that he wasn't that far from childhood himself and went with his instincts, the unconscious desires he had just realized he had. His decision made, L wrapped himself around Mello in the bed, pleased at the way he snuggled closer. And then, at last, L slept.

  


  
_Epilogue_   


  
It wasn't until the next evening that L saw Near to give him his answer, summoning him to his room when he didn't come on his own. He didn't have to say a word; Near proved his own perceptiveness by taking one look at L's face and then nodding, looking resigned.

“You do love him, don't you? I thought you might, after you never turned him away even once. But I had to ask; surely you see that?” He didn't look that hurt or worried, merely mildly concerned, but L suspected he felt more deeply than he let others see. He pulled Near close without asking or hesitating, held him until he relaxed and closed his eyes with a sigh, more like Mello than either of them would have believed.

“I'm sorry,” L said, and it was true; he was honestly sorry to have to tell him this. He knew he was being selfish, perhaps doing the wrong thing, and he didn't want to hurt Near anymore than he had wanted to hurt Mello. But Near didn't deserve a lie, either. “If something should happen to me,” he said, almost hesitantly, but feeling it had to be said, “I want you to take care of Mello for me, all right? Make sure he is well and not too lonely.” Asking Near for a favor now seemed awkward, but L was certain he was the perfect choice for this request. No one else could do what he was asking, but he had faith in Near's ability to fulfill his request. He loved Mello as well; who better to ask?

“Me? But...” Near pulled back and looked up at him, clearly doubtful.

“It's probably not necessary, but just in case. I have faith in you.”

Near was frowning, but he nodded. “I'll do my best.” And Near's best, of course, was far better than that of most others. L smiled at him and felt reassured. He would still be lonely, but at least he wouldn't have to worry while he was gone; he had placed Mello's happiness in the best hands possible.  



End file.
